


Do you remember what happened last time?

by fatcr0w



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, M/M, Multi, bucky will get love, from who is a very good question, gen for now - Freeform, minor character death (past), tags added as they become relevant, unclear if this will stay gen till the end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:30:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3873973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatcr0w/pseuds/fatcr0w
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Steve is out and about saving the world from the big, the bad, and the artificially intelligent megalomaniac metal madmen, Sam is keeping his nose to the ground on their missing person's case.  He does a pretty good job of it, considering the man in question can only be found when he wants to be. </p>
<p>~Takes place within the AoU timeline, so minor spoilers are present~</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do you remember what happened last time?

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a beta until they see the movie, so please bear with me on the typos. I'll hopefully be able to do a thorough comb-through soon!

"Yea man, I get it," Sam said towards the general vicinity of his desk as he tossed some fresh- he gave one of his shirts a sniff- yes, fresh, clothes into one of his now many bug-out bags, "That Tessaract.... thing or whatever is definitely top priority, what's the point of doing all this searching if the whole big blue hidey-hole gets blown into the next dimension?"

"But Sam you don't have to do this," his phone answered back,Steve's now familiar deep voice echoing out of a shiny new Stark Tech model propped against his also shiny-and-new laptop. Sam made a mental note to get the poor tech grunt on equipment duty a Starbucks gift card or something when his gear inevitably takes another bullet to the motherboard on his next manhunt. He double checked the new prototype case also, tapping the suspiciously soft jelly material with his nail. Perhaps this was all an elaborate ploy to test new civilian grade defense systems against military grade assault weaponry. Either way, the last phone's Kevlar woven back-plate had saved his butt quite literally, his favorite light wash jeans now had a spectacular burn pattern on the left cheek.

"You're damn right I don't," Sam opened his closet door to make the very important choice of which color Nike's were best for the job. 

"Language."

"That one's in the Bible man... And for that matter, so is ass, as in you bet your star-spangled ass that this is something I intend to do anyway," he settled on the brown leather pair. He could run pretty fast in them, but still maintain his fashion integrity. 

Steve chuckled weakly, drifting into silence for a while on the other end, at least as much silence as there could be when you're in a quinjet cruising at 40,000 feet. Sam zipped up the bag, double checking his mental list as he sat down to properly slip on his shoes. He wasn't going to disrespect the leather by shoving in like some heathen. 

Keys, check.  
Passport, check.  
Report notes, check.  
Comm Link, check.  
Trail Mix for the-

"Sam," Steve's voice was plaintive, a rare enough sound that Sam grabbed the phone, placing it to his ear. He didn't say anything more. he was searching for the politically correct, admonishing-yet-encouraging tone he liked to use to get his way with everyone else. It usually worked, but Sam was a quick study in growing immune to the bullshit. In the thirty some-odd minutes he'd known Nick Fury prior to his disappearance, he'd learn that straightforward and well timed interruption does wonders. 

"Look man, what's really eating at you on this? It's not that I'm searching at all, you didn't give Sharon or Maria this kind of grief when they took down some quick leads on this mission. And if it's something you can't say because you've got to be macho in front of the team then fine, fine. But I told you last time, and the time before that, and literally every time really, I've got this."

There was another sigh, then the sound of footsteps and shuffling. Steve moved when he couldn't talk, as if a change in coordinates would connect him to his usual eloquence. 

"I'm concerned about what happened last time."

"Which last time? Because the last eight trails have been ice cold." Sam threw back easily, shouldering the pack as he went towards the door, "Aside from a Hydra agent or four, I don't see what the issue is. Yea, I lost the most comfortable "

"Not that last time," Steve answered in a terse whisper, "I...mean the last time we actually caught up with him." 

Sam stopped short, his hands hovering over the keys on the rack, his eyes staring a few months back, to a battle out of some sort of fever dream. He was looking into cold, dead blue eyes again, hearing the ear-splitting screech of metal on metal as his wings were ripped from the housing and cast aside like a used tissue. 

Then he was cast aside with them. He was unbalanced, he spun as his remaining wing fought to stabilize against nothing at all. Just like that he was rendered useless, helpless as he saw a blue streak plummet into a mass, watery grave. 

Sam took a deep, breath. He was useless back then too, when Riley was falling farther, faster than the safety protocols on his gliders would let him chase. Helpless like the half-aware look of resignation in his best friend's eyes, so similar to the ones he saw behind the mask. The eyes of a man with both feet in the grave. More faces flashed through his mind, eyes staring into another dimension, lost forever. Those with dirt already over their caskets. There was nothing he could do. It almost always seemed that there was nothing a solitary human like him could do. 

His hands gripped the keys and he shook his head, returning himself to the matter at hand."What makes you think I'll actually catch up with him, huh?" 

"There's always that chance," Steve sounded dubious, "It would be safer if you took someone with you."

"Look ,you and the squad are busy making a splash out in Segovia, I highly doubt he's going to show up, but it's three thousand times more important that you secure that magic stick before someone else starts trying to pull rabbits out of the time-space continuum," Sam locked his door a little forcefully, hoping the clack would carry over the mic.

"Think of it this way, Captain worry-wart. I'm just keeping the trail warm while you and Nat are occupied. When this is all over, you guys can come and take over. Besides, it's not like he'll be found before he really wants to be." 

There was a call out from the front of the cabin, and the tell tale sound of gear rustling as everyone began to gather for briefing, "Yea, you're right Sam, but be careful, damnit, you're in the squad too."

The connection clicked off, and Sam smiled, pocketing his phone, right cheek this time. It was only fair. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are greatly appreciated, and let me know if I missed a tag. I'm pulling this out of my buns, so tell me where you'd like it to go next!


End file.
